Twist Of Words
by shockin'blueeyes
Summary: He had always been a coward, and so when Voldemort gave him his mission, he fled, turning for help to the least likely person: Dumbledore.And just like that, his whole world was upside down.A new way to fight Dark Forces, unlikely allies and much more...


This story is written for the Gryffindor challenge at Hogwarts Online forum.

Though this story is marked as adventure and romance, it has many other genres, such as action (mmm, love me some action scenes…), friendship, hurt/comfort, humour and even angst.

It's AU starting at the beginning of sixth year. The plot idea had been running on my mind sometime, and I decided to put it to use with the challenge, which is basically to write an action fic, with long, long chapters 5000 words minimum. (It's long for me!)

This is my first Draco/OC, so please, be kind with your reviews!

Talking about reviews, I'd like you to review, even just a little bit, if you're gonna favourite. DON'T FAVOURITE WITHOUT REVIEWING, please. I need to know if you like the fic and what you think of it!

Just one more thing: let's just pretend Voldemort didn't threaten Draco with killing his family if he didn't kill Dumbledore, okay?

Disclaimer: I only own my OC and the plot idea.

* * *

**Chapter 1: ****Good And Evil**

'_No man chooses evil because it is evil: _

_he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks'_

_-__Mary Shelley –_

Plick. Plick. Plick.

The steady falling of something liquid against the floor woke him up, and he groggily rolled to the other side of the bed, his eyes still closed, and he put a hand over his eyes to keep off the faint light that came through the window.

However, his eyes snapped open the moment he felt something sticky cover his face. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light, but when he finally recognised what was on his hand he stifled a yell and scrambled up, nearly falling off the bed.

His hand, in fact, his two hands, were covered in blood, half dried up and with a sickening burgundy colour.

He looked down, praying that the blood wasn't his, and found his robes also covered in blood. His robes? What was he doing in his robes? Was he injured?

His foggy mind couldn't seem to process so much information, and it wasn't until he began stripping off and his wand, hid somewhere in his robes, fell to the floor and rolled over the hard wooden floor when he remembered why he was covered in blood.

And he wished he didn't.

The blood wasn't his, alright, but the good news ended there. Images of the last night began flashing through his eyes, and he blinked several times, trying to pull them away, but it was no use.

He could still hear the drawn out screams of the man the lovely friends of his parents were torturing, down there in the cellar of the Manor, and he shuddered unconsciously, trying not to remember when they had made him become a part of all the fun, and he had had to see how it had gone messy, and they had ended up killing him, blood splattering all over and his crazy aunt laughing like the maniac she was.

Oh Merlin. What had he done to deserve this?

Draco looked down briefly at his bloody hands, and then at his bare forearms, and in the left one, shining and angry black colour, was the skull and snake tattoo, pulsing slightly as if it was alive.

He looked around his room, taking in the dark colours, contrasting greatly with the faint sun that came through the huge windows. It wasn't much, though. The sun never seemed to come all the way into the manor, for some reason.

And then there was the worst part of it all, something much more scary than watching a helpless man getting killed, or having to ask his mother to put him into a bewitched sleep, or to have The Dark Mark imprinted in his forearm, making him officially part of a group of psychopaths and power seeking bastards.

The worst part of it all was that he had been given a mission. A mission that would most likely get him killed.

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, but not dumb. He knew this was a punishment to his family for the mistakes of his father. He was paying for things he hadn't even done. And he was paying hard.

He looked out of the window and shuddered. The faint light that had been coming in a few seconds ago had vanished, leaving instead a grey sky, as if it didn't know whether to rain or not. He looked back down at his bloody hands and robes, and sighed a surprisingly shaky sigh.

He needed to get out of there. This was no life for a teenager, almost a child. Hell, this wasn't life for anyone!

He was almost at the door, still half naked and all bloodied up when his survival skills kicked in. What was he going to do? He had nowhere to go, and his parents would find him in no time. No, he couldn't go away now, he had to wait. He had to be patient, because he wanted to escape and live, not escape and die.

He'd have to wait until he was in a place his parents couldn't get to. At Hogwarts he'd be safe. There he'd be with… Dumbledore. The man he was supposed to kill.

His stomach churned unpleasantly, and he closed his eyes for a moment, before rushing into the bathroom.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a coward. It was an unquestionable fact, like it was that the sun rose up from the east and sea water was salty. There was no point trying to deny it, he had always been a coward, and he would always be a coward.

And so while he sat in his Headmaster's office, barely a few weeks after he woke up covered in blood in his bedroom, he glanced out of the window at the grounds below and considered running for it, and denying he had ever been in that office. But deep down, he knew he couldn't, because the alternative of what he was about to do was going back to waking up covered in blood, and he was certain he'd die if he had to endure it again.

Well, he most probably also die following the path he was taking now, but at least, at least… at least what? What was the difference between dying following The Dark Lord's orders and dying fighting against him?

Well, right now he wasn't able to answer that question, but he was sure he had a better shot at surviving if he was by Dumbledore's side, and that he was doing the right thing. After all, even The Dark Lord was wary of that old codger, right?

So why did he felt like he was going to throw up until he blacked out?

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale-

Oh, this was ridiculous! He was going to hyperventilate if he kept trying to lengthen his breaths, a known way to relax that was proving to be little beyond useless. He looked around the room, trying to find another way to relax that didn't involve getting up from his chair, since he was sure his legs wouldn't support him. He stared for a while at the phoenix perched on a chair, who stared back at him for a while before stretching his wings and looking away.

He then stared at a single spot of dust floating in the room, but his eyes began to water, and he looked away, blinking several times. He didn't need anyone thinking he had been crying or something like that.

The door behind him opened, and his stomach gave a sickening lurch. Oh Merlin, he was really going to throw up all over his Headmaster's desk. He gulped, feeling his heart beat somewhere near his Adam's apple, and he closed his eyes for a second, opening them only when he was sure he had controlled the urge to get up and run for the hills.

He was doing the right thing. He was doing the right thing.

'Mr. Malfoy? Is there something you need to tell me?' Draco looked at the person now sitting in front of him, and he gulped again, trying to force out the words.

He was doing the right thing. He was doing the right thing.

'Surely you didn't come here to take tea with me?' Dumbledore added, and try as he might, Draco couldn't force a sneer to form in his face. That was alarmingly bad, him not being able to make even a little sound of distaste upon his headmaster's obvious madness.

'I am a Death Eater' the bluntness of his words surprised him: he had sounded too loud, even in his own head. However, Dumbledore just looked at him, and Draco gulped again. Merlin, he felt like a dog, gulping down his own saliva in order not to choke in it.

'Ah, well, I thought so.'

'What?' he had not heard correctly. His Headmaster couldn't just have reacted to the news of him being a Death Eater as though someone had told him it was gonna rain the next day. Especially since it was the Death Eater himself who had told him.

'Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I have suspected for a long time it may come the day when you joined Voldemort, though I never imagined you'd told me. Why did you decide to tell me this?'

Ah, well, that wasn't an easy question.

But, after all, what about that situation was easy?

He guessed it all had started (all being the decision to tell Dumbledore about him being a Death Eater and… the other thing he hadn't told him yet) that morning in his room, but he could be wrong. It was true that for quite a few weeks before he was given his mission, he had been growing wary of The Dark Side. It just didn't fit with his idea of being powerful, being scared shitless of a man without nose.

'I… I don't know. I guess it was the right thing to do.'

'The right thing for who?'

Draco shrugged, looking at his Headmaster, who looked back at him with his piercing blue gaze, as if trying to see past his chest and into his soul. It gave him the creeps.

'I think, Draco, that your definition of the right thing to do isn't the same as mine, isn't it?' what was he doing? Was he discussing semantics? What the bloody hell?

'And what if it isn't?' Draco snapped back, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

'Well, it isn't the same, betraying your own because you think it is the morally good thing to do, and betraying your own because you think it is the right thing to do to keep you alive'

Draco gapped at him, taken aback. How had he been able to figure it out so quickly?

'I- I guess' he stuttered.

'So, Draco, which one of the definitions has taken you here tonight?'

Rather than answering the question, he decided to tell him the other bit of information that haunted his mind and his blood, though he knew they both knew what the unspoken answer was.

'I was assigned a mission, to kill you, and to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts.' Draco tried not to shudder at the thought and looked down, and he suddenly felt very small and alone. When had he turned into something he was afraid of?

He dared another look at Dumbledore, who just sat there, his fingertips touching each other. His expression was unfathomable.

A few minutes passed, and Draco began getting uneasy. Maybe he shouldn't have told him. Maybe know Dumbledore thought him a murderer, or maybe he even was silently pondering whether to send him to Azkaban or not… Draco felt sick again, and gulped.

'It has obviously taken you a whole lot of bravery to come here tonight' said Dumbledore, and though Draco was still incredibly uneasy, he couldn't help but retort automatically.

'No' he said. How did he dare comparing him to a Gryffindor? 'It was not bravery. It was cowardice'

'Why cowardice? Are you scared?'

Draco shook his head

'Then why did you tell me this, if apparently you have nothing to gain?' Dumbledore asked, and Draco gulped.

'Because I have nothing to loose either' that was a big fat lie, and he knew it, but he didn't know what else to respond.

'That is a lie, Mr. Malfoy'

Draco stared at his Headmaster, unsure of whether to laugh at the shocking sight of his Headmaster figuring him out so quickly or stutter uncontrollably because he had seen through his lie instantly. He settled on the latter.

'I… it's not… how could…'

'Mr. Malfoy I think you'll agree with me that you have indeed something to loose. In my opinion, if you didn't have something to loose, then you'd face Voldemort directly, and not run away from him and come to me.'

'I…'

'I think, Mr. Malfoy, you have something to loose: your life.'

'That…' was quite true.

And it all came down to that.

He, Draco Malfoy, was scared of dying. And because he was scared of dying, he had chosen to run to Dumbledore, because he knew the old bugger could give him a security The Dark Lord couldn't give him.

'Draco, understand that I am unsure as how to proceed right now. With what you have told me and what I have guessed, I assumed you are here because you think I'd be able to protect you from a very possible death, and so you have offered me the crucial bit of information you possess, in the hopes that I gave you, how to put it, asylum, and so you could avoid the thing you are most afraid of, dying.'

Draco nodded numbly, not sure he had understood all his Headmaster had said, but at least he wasn't laughing at him or hexing him. Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, and Draco waited expectantly, unconsciously wringing his hands nervously together. Well, at least it was better than to vomit.

'I can assure you, Draco, that I'd do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I cannot guarantee anything if you don't guarantee anything. I cannot possibly take you under my protection if you're gonna run off to Voldemort again should the tables turn. I need you to promise that you won't betray us.'

Draco looked at his Headmaster, gulped, and then, slowly, nodded. Really, what else what he supposed to do? He needed to feel safe. He would deal with stupid alliances with the Gryffindors later, when death wasn't looming above him anymore.

'Okay then. You may go now, Draco. We will meet again in a few days.'

Draco nodded again numbly and got up, not quite feeling like himself. He was already at the door when Dumbledore spoke again.

'Draco' he turned around to look at his Headmaster. 'In the lights of the recent events, it would be better if you didn't discuss the subject of this visit with anyone.'

'I wasn't planning to' replied Draco, and stepping outside, closed the door behind him.

* * *

In the three days that followed after his interview with Dumbledore, the weather changed drastically, and while the week had started sunny and warm, suddenly the heavens opened and a non-stop downpour washed the grounds, crashing against the windows and cleaning away the last vestiges of summer.

Due to the bad weather, Draco hadn't been able to get away from the castle in three days, and he was beginning to feel caged up. He needed space and solitude to think, and since everybody was cooped up inside, there wasn't anywhere like that inside, and he wasn't about to get wet to the bone by going outside.

By the evening of the third day, he couldn't take it any longer, and he stomped out of the packed common room, doing a beeline out of the dungeons and almost running to the Astronomy Tower. He didn't even bother looking around to see if any teacher was nearby; he just climbed the stairs two by two and arrived to the top.

The rain, which was falling vertically, didn't penetrate much the windowless space, but it was humid nonetheless, and there was a chilling breeze that ruffled his school robes and made his hair cling to his face. He brushed it away, sitting on a bench in the middle of the circular space, and brought his knees up, enveloping them with his arms, so he was effectively shielded against the cold.

He listened to the rain for a while, seeing how the light dimmed, and how the clouds got darker and darker. Just before the light disappeared completely, a cloud cleared, and for an instant, a feeble ray of sun lit the grounds and the tower, making sparkle the silver ring on his right hand. And the next instant, the clouds swallowed again the sun as it sank through the mountains, plunging the landscape in darkness.

He lit his wand and put it besides him, illuminating a bit the darkened space. He looked at the ring in his right hand, pulling it out to bring it closer to his face. It had the form of a snake that seemed to curl around his finger, with gleaming eyes of emerald. In the inside of the ring was an inscription, just visible in the dim light.

_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_

Which basically meant Purity Always Conquers. Draco let out a dry laugh, which reverberated through the empty space. Conquers what?

He didn't feel like he had conquered anything.

All his life, all he had wanted was to be powerful and respected, like his father was, like every Malfoy had been. He had only been worried about living up to the family team, scooping the most prizes possible, the best marks, the best of everything, and he had treated people like they deserved to: they were all inferior, so why bother with them? He hadn't given them a second thought, nor he had given a second thought to all the signs that had showed that everything was spiralling out of control.

He had looked with mild disgust how his father grew worrisome, and how he finally succumbed, earning him his time in Azkaban, and he hadn't really thought much of it. It wasn't as though he had ever loved his father much.

When he was made Death Eater, well, he had been nervous, but he had assumed it was because he was finally meeting his destiny, the thing he had been made for.

But now, alone in the Astronomy Tower, with darkness surrounding him, it occurred to him that maybe he had been nervous because deep down he knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right to kill innocent people, even if they were filthy muggles or mudbloods. They didn't deserve to die. Yes, they were an abomination, but no one deserved to die. He had lived half of his life surrounded by them, and he hadn't caught any disease yet, and if he ignored them or insulted them, well, it wasn't that hard to bear with their presence.

Going to Dumbledore had probably been a suicidal idea, but if he somehow managed not to get himself killed, in the long run he knew it would be beneficial. If Potter killed The Dark Lord, of course. If The Dark Lord won, well, they'd all be doomed, and he'd probably be one of the first on his to-be-killed list, but at least he wouldn't have had to kill in cold blood. Or kill at all.

He looked again at his ring again. Conquer. He hadn't conquered anything, and he didn't think he wanted to, if that meant he'd have to see the light disappear from someone's eyes, and know it had been his fault. So getting up, he walked to the balustrade, and ignoring the rain, he lifted his arm, caught impulse and swung it forward, throwing the ring with all the force he could muster, a cry escaping his throat. In the rain, the ring glinted for a second before plummeting down into the veil of darkness, and the only sound that was heard was the rain hitting against the old walls of the castle.

* * *

'Liquorice rolls'

The statue moved aside, and the spiralled staircase came into view. Draco climbed it, absentmindedly rubbing the empty space in his fingers where the ring had been. It was strange, not having it. He had had it on for as long as he could remember, but he didn't miss it. It was just strange, the sudden lightness of his hand.

He opened the wooden door, and entered the office. This time, the Headmaster was already sitting, reading a parchment.

It had been almost a week since he'd been there, and although nothing had changed, he knew he had changed. He was no longer a Voldemort supporter, if he had ever been one, and he was now relieved of the task of killing his Headmaster. Which was, in his eyes, a major improvement of his situation.

Without waiting for his Headmaster to acknowledge him, he sat himself on a seat, noticing that there were two other seats on his left.

After a few seconds, Dumbledore lifted his gaze and looked at him.

'Thank you, Draco, for being punctual. It's not a value a lot of people possess these days.'

Draco didn't answer, but nodded curtly.

'I guess you know why I wanted to see you tonight' Dumbledore said, leaning forward in his seat and looking at Draco, his eyes twinkling. Draco grimaced.

'Yes. To talk about my betrayal'

'Not your betrayal, but your salvation' Dumbledore replied, but Draco's grimace didn't go away. If only, it increased.

'Salvation? I don't need salvation' which was a lie, considering he had betrayed all he knew for salvation. He just like antagonising his Headmaster. It didn't make him feel comfortable to know that that man knew his deepest fear.

'Everybody needs salvation, Draco. However, there are many types of salvation'

Draco snorted. That man was off his rocker. Why was he wasting their time chatting away about salvation?

Now that he didn't feel like barfing all over his Headmaster desk, or running away screaming, he felt his old confidence slowly get back at him, and he was mildly ashamed of his childish reaction to his change of sides. How was he going to survive if he couldn't even face his Headmaster?

At that moment someone knocked at the door, and it opened with a click. Draco turned around in his seat to look at the new person in the room, and automatically sneered. It was Potter, and he was wearing a shocked expression, which promptly turned into a glare.

'What is he doing here?' he asked, jerking his head in Draco's direction.

'The same as you, Harry. I've called you here tonight to discuss a very important matter. Now' he raised a hand to stop Harry, who had opened his mouth to talk 'Just a moment, Harry, we're still waiting for someone. Have a seat please' he gestured to the chair near Draco. Harry looked at Dumbledore, then at Draco and then at the chair, and somewhat reluctantly, got closer and sat on the one on the far right, leaving an empty chair between him and Malfoy.

The three of them sat in silence for a while, Harry fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, Dumbledore twiddling his thumbs, and Draco doing his best not to show any sign of impatience.

What were the three waiting for? Who were they waiting for?

Was it someone equally important, that also had valuable information for the war? Was it an ex-Death Eater, like himself, or a stupid moron like Potter?

A soft knock pulled him out of his reverie. Harry and Draco turned around, and the door opened without a sound, and there, hovering awkwardly in the threshold, was a girl with freckles on her face that Draco didn't recognise at all, though she probably had a few classes with him. He just didn't pay attention.

'Hi Sophie' said Harry, smiling a little, and the girl smiled back.

'Hi Harry' she then looked at Dumbledore, who with a wave of his hand gestured to the empty chair between Draco and Harry. The girl walked over there and sat down on the edge of her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears and looking slightly nervous at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore crossed his hands over his desk, and eyed the three of them with his unnerving blue gaze. Draco tried hard not to squirm under his gaze.

'Harry, Draco, Sophie, I have called you tonight for a matter of the utmost importance. I assume you know about the current situation of the Wizarding world.' The three of them nodded 'Our world has never known a greater danger than it does today, and as I warned you two years ago, the time to choose between what is good and what is easy has come, and the three of you have already chosen, I must say, with incredible bravery and moral rightness.'

Draco mind was reeling as he looked sideways at Potter and the girl –Sophie? - What had they done with incredibly bravery and moral rightness? Okay, Potter was obvious, as he had shown his bravery, or rather recklessness, multiple times. But Sophie? What had she done? His eyes flickered to her tie, and he fought the urge to snort. She was a Hufflepuff! What was she even doing here?

'I'm sorry Headmaster, but I don't understand what the two of them are doing here. No offence, Sophie' said, and she shrugged, but didn't say anything.

'I understand your concern, Harry, but Sophie was in the DA last year, and Draco has made a very important choice, one that implies great danger for his personal safety'

'What choice?' asked Potter sharply, and Draco instinctively hid his left arm behind his back, but unfortunately, Potter noticed. He jumped up so quickly that when Draco wanted to react Potter was already pointing his wand at him. Sophie looked back and forth between the two of them, open mouthed.

'Harry, please, sit down' Dumbledore said calmly, but Potter didn't even look at him. He was fuming, his nostrils dilated and his chest heaving.

'I knew it! I knew it! He's a Death Eater! How can you allow this?' he shouted, turning to look at Dumbledore. 'He's a Death Eater ! Do you know the danger he is?' Sophie's eyes flickered to Draco's left arm, and then at his face, before looking at Potter again.

'Harry sit down' Dumbledore said again, but this time there was some firmness in his voice. However, Potter was still pointing his wand at Draco, and he looked near murderous. Draco shrank in his seat, and the Sophie girl was still seated, looking at Harry with eyes wide as dinner plates.

'He is a Death Eater, Dumbledore! He has the Dark Mark, he's a Death Eater! He's a bloody-'

'Harry, we already know he's a Death Eater, you made that clear! Now stop shouting!'

Draco was caught off guard by Sophie's voice, and even if she was still sitting, she was glaring at Potter.

'And please sit down?' she added in a calmer voice. Potter glared at Draco, and for one wild moment Draco thought Potter was going to hex him, and he prayed that Sophie honoured the Hufflepuff tradition and volunteered herself as a human shield, but Potter just grunted and pocketed his wand, sitting down again.

'Sorry' he growled in what Draco was sure was Dumbledore's general direction, since there was no chance in hell he was going to apologise to him.

'Draco, under great personal risk, had informed me of the plans of Lord Voldemort, and I fear we have reached a point where the situation is worse than I thought it would be' continued Dumbledore as though he had never been interrupted by his moronic student.

'Sir, honestly, I don't know what I'm doing here, with The Chosen One and a Death Eater gone good. There are dozens of other people more significant than me, and they were in the DA too' Sophie said, sitting on the edge of her seat and frowning at Dumbledore.

Though he didn't say anything, Draco was also dying to know what a simple Hufflepuff girl was doing there. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

'That may be true, but you possess a knowledge I'm afraid no one in this castle possesses. At least not to the extent you do'

'What knowledge?' she asked, her hands gripping the edges of her seat.

'For what I've heard, your father has a high rank in the muggle British army, hasn't he?' Dumbledore asked, and she nodded.

'General of the King's Division' she said.

Muggle? She was half-blood? A muggleborn? Draco scooted in his seat slightly away from her.

'And I guess he taught you the insights of his job' added Dumbledore.

A dawning look on comprehension showed on her face, but she shook her head.

'Well, yeah, he did, but that's… I mean, I'm sure there are many other capable wizards who know more than I do about guns and such…'

'Not within this castle, Sophie, and believe me, there are only a couple of them. And anyway, a wizard visiting the castle once a week would be suspicious.'

'What happens once a week?' Potter asked.

'The classes are once a week' said Dumbledore.

'Classes? I-' stammered Sophie.

'The classes that you'll impart in muggle weapons, of course.' Both Potter and Sophie's mouths fell open, but Dumbledore continued talking as if anything curious happened 'But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? Given the current situation, fighting with magic isn't enough. Voldemort has a much more capable army of wizards and other dark magical creatures than us, and since his followers aren't afraid of using the Unforgivable curses, our numbers reduce every day.'

Potter sucked in a breath and glared at Draco, but Draco stood his ground. He hadn't been the one to kill Potter's godfather, and he wasn't about to take the blame on what his psychotic aunt had done. He had enough with his own.

'If we wish to win this war, we need to learn a new way to fight, all the while improving our magic skills. That's why I called you too, Harry. You'll be starting again DA this year, though this time it'll be totally legal, and maybe it would be advisable if it changed it's name. And you Sophie will be imparting a class in how to use muggle weapons, though it'll be a much more restricted class. It may give us an advantage over Lord Voldemort, but just as long as it takes him to realise what we're doing and counterattack.'

'And what is Malfoy going to do, eh? Impart a class about how to become a Death Eater?' asked Potter viciously, and Draco sneered at him.

'Draco will be imparting classes in Occlumency'

Draco raised his eyebrows and stared at his Headmaster. What was the old codger playing at? Okay, he was good at Occlumency, very good indeed, but who said he was about to teach it to stupid kids?

'Can't Professor Snape do it?' he asked, but Dumbledore shook his head.

'Professor Snape has far more pressing matters to attend to this year, and he recommended you as the best Occlumens he had seen in a long time'

Yeah, like being a double-triple agent for you and Voldemort, thought Draco.

'Well, Sophie, you will be starting your classes in muggle weapons-'

'I'm sorry, Headmaster' interrupted Sophie, frowning 'But I never said I agreed with giving classes in muggle weapons. I only know about fire arms, and there are much more. And that's not even the point. The point is that I don't want to be responsible of introducing a new way to kill in this war. I don't want to have anything to do with it. And besides, how do you expect me to teach how to use lethal weapons to a group of teenagers who aren't even of age?'

'Your classes will only be available to sixth and seventh year students.' Dumbledore said, and Sophie swallowed.

'I'm still not doing it. I refuse.' She made a move to stand up, and Harry caught her forearm, but she shook it off, her face unusually sombre. 'And I'm not sorry. I will not train kids to become soldiers or whatever. I will not train them to kill.' She stood up, and straightened her skirt.

'Sophie! We need your classes for winning! Don't you want us to win the war and defeat Voldemort?' asked Harry, looking dumbfounded at her.

'Of course I want! But I refuse to be the one to turn this war a lot mot messier and bloodier than it is already! You have no idea how effective fire arms are!' she cried, looking at Dumbledore.

Draco snorted.

'I doubt is more effective than the wizard's way' he said. He could not believe his ears. Was Sophie having a mental breakdown about moral integrity and ethics? Really, she should stop worrying. Nothing the muggles had invented would be more effective than the Avada Curse. Or a knife held by your aunt… He pushed aside those memories and looked at Sophie, who was looking back at him, affronted.

'Well, do you have any idea of how muggles kill?' she asked, and he shrugged.

'Knives?' he asked, and she snorted. Behind her, Potter shook his head disbelievingly.

'Apart from that' Sophie said.

'How should I know? It's not like I'm interested in any that has to do with filthy muggles' he snapped.

'Oh – for Heaven's sake – get over yourself' she shot back without looking at him, as she was taking out from her pocket her wand and a hairclip. She then looked at Dumbledore. 'May I?' she asked, and he nodded. She placed the hairclip on Dumbledore's desk and pointed her wand at it.

'_Reverso_' she whispered. The Reversing Spell? What the hell? Did muggles kill with a hairclip or something? Or had she hidden a muggle weapon under the form of an innocent hairclip?

Two seconds later, he broke out laughing when he saw what Sophie now had in her hands. A small, cylindrical object with a round point, made of some kind of metal.

'This is a bullet' said Sophie, holding the cylindrical object with two fingers. 'This is what muggles use to kill'

* * *

So, liked it? Hated it? Please tell me? I really need to know what you think of it!


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